by Karen Hall
“It does,” she agreed. “But as to my unannounced arrival—”
“One can always count on you for the unexpected, can’t they?” Daniel asked abruptly. “You have a habit of showing up when one least expects you.”
“The element of surprise can be most effective, don’t you think?” she asked pertly. “But as to my visit. First, to thank you again for agreeing to help Hank Eustace. He’s quite the center of attention at the school! So much so, the teachers had to declare a field day with inside games and contests to celebrate. Clearly no learning was going to be done today. Clara especially sends her thanks to you.”
“Clara is your daughter who is the teacher, isn’t she?” Louisa asked. “How kind of her to teach children who so desperately need to learn how to read and write their native tongue and do sums.”
Mrs. Goforth’s eyes darkened just as they had when she gave Daniel his dressing down about The Clarion’s reporting honestly on his future campaign. “Her students are learning Latin and algebra, Mrs. Keller,” she said, her voice cold. “They already know how to read and write English and do sums.”
“Indeed?” Louisa’s tone matched the journalist’s. Daniel silently inhaled and waited.
But then Mrs. Goforth smiled and directed her gaze back at him. “Clara passionately loves the school and her students. I’m sure after your helping Hank, she will act as your advocate to her students’ male family members to vote for you when the time comes. And the children sent you this.”
She opened her handbag, extracted a tiny drawstring bag and poured the contents onto Daniel’s desk. The clinking of coins as they grew into an impressive little pile filled the sudden silence between the room’s occupants.
“I’m not sure exactly how much it is,” Mrs. Goforth said. “But the entire student body passed the hat this morning to take up a collection for your campaign and asked we bring it to you. Clara couldn’t get away, so I came on their behalf. ” She paused, and a different kind of light entered her eyes. “There are at least sixty students enrolled at the school. The staff hopes to send their contribution later. You’re very much their hero, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
A strange swell of emotion gathered around Daniel’s heart. With something close to reverence, he reached out to carefully touch the battered shillings and much handled pence and wondered how much of a sacrifice the children had made to collect this. Collect for him. He looked up to find his guest enveloping him in her now familiar stare. Beside him, Louisa watched and waited.
“Tell them thank you for me, Mrs. Goforth,” Daniel finally managed to say, grateful his voice remained steady. “I appreciate their generosity.”
“There’s also this.”
Mrs. Goforth took an envelope from her purse and put it on his desk. Something in her expression commanded him to open it at once. After pulling back the flap, he withdrew a check drawn from the Bank of England signed by the lady herself. At the amount made out to him, his eyebrows rose. “This is very generous, Mrs. Goforth.”
“My daughters and I agreed that in spite of the fact we don’t always see eye to eye with you on social issues, making a contribution towards your campaign is the least we could do,” she said. “Things could have gone so badly for the Eustace family and Bouncer if you had not agreed to help them.”
“Isn’t that sweet that the children should send their shillings,” Louisa said. “Daniel, perhaps you can go visit the school again.”
Mrs. Goforth’s mouth tightened and Daniel didn’t even want to try to guess the contents of her thoughts, but she only said, “If Mr. Hollingsworth’s schedule allows, we would indeed be glad to see him at the school again. You must excuse me, but I promised Elizabeth I’d help her screen some of the clients at her employment agency. So many people need extra staff for their holiday entertaining, and there are so many applicants, she is quite overwhelmed.”
“And who runs your newspaper when you’re hurrying between helping Elizabeth and Clara?” Louisa asked. Her voice held a thinly veiled sarcasm. “It’s a wonder you could get out a weekly edition, let alone a daily, especially when you’re arrested.”
Any other woman would have wilted under Mrs. Goforth’s stony-eyed glare, but Louisa had faced greater opponents. She smiled and her eyes narrowed as if in anticipation of a war of words. Choosing a coin from the pile, Daniel rolled it between his fingers and offered up a hasty prayer for some kind of divine intervention.
“I’ve two assistant editors who help me when that happens,” Mrs. Goforth said briskly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hollingsworth. I hope you noticed I kept my promise to you.”
Her words caught Daniel off guard. “What promise was that, Mrs. Goforth?”
“To not write about Hank’s case until you decided to take it. And now I shall write an article about the children’s gift to you. Perhaps it will gather you a few more votes.”
And with the silk flowers on her hat trembling with suppressed anger, ‘that woman’ left Daniel’s chambers.
Chapter Eight
LATER THAT NIGHT. OUTSIDE Kenwick’s Music Hall.
“Hello, Georgie.”
Robbie lifted his bowler hat in greeting. The streetlamp’s glow gave an eerie shine to his eyes, and even from several feet away, George caught a whiff of cheap gin. “Did you bathe in that swill before you came?” he huffed.
“Just enjoying a bit of Christmas cheer, Georgie-boy,” Robbie laughed. Then his expression turned sullen. “You wanted to meet in some public place, remember?” he challenged. “You wanted lots of people around so we’d blend in with the crowd. Hiding in plain sight, as it were. So let’s talk, Georgie-boy.”
“Not here,” George insisted, grabbing Robbie’s sleeve and propelling them down the sidewalk. “Besides, I’m meeting someone in a few minutes.”
“Then you better start talking,” Robbie warned. “My pockets are feeling kind of empty and I know where Hollingsworth’s chambers are.”
“Will you be quiet?” George hissed, darting a look from side to side. He stopped a few feet from a sandwich vendor and, after checking the street once again, whispered, “That girl from the pub you asked me about—”
“Hilda Peters,” Robbie interrupted.
“Yes, that one,” George said quickly. “I followed her like you told me. She’s working as a parlor maid for Lady Penelope Hyde-Smith, wife of Sir Donald Hyde-Smith, one of the owners of the Polar Star Shipping Line.”
“You’re sure?” Robbie gave George’s arm an iron-like squeeze.
“You’re hurting me,” George complained. “Of course I’m sure. Hyde-Smith is one of Mr. Hollingsworth’s clients.”
“Well, hang me for a pirate.” Robbie’s eyes gleamed again, but he let go of George’s arm. “They’re rich?”
“Are you daft?” George allowed himself a sneer. “He co-owns the Polar Star, for heaven’s sake. Their house is in Mayfair. He’s drowning in money.”
“What about those other people? What else did Hilda tell you?”
George uttered a silent oath. Robbie had given him a list with the names of ten more people, most of them women, whose trials he’d covered and who had likely served time with Hilda. Robbie had insisted George find a way to convince Hilda to “fess up” what she knew about their whereabouts, where they worked, and for whom. “Thieves always go with thieves,” he’d insisted. “No one else will go with them.”
“I showed her the list you gave me,” George admitted. “She recognized seven of the names and knew their whereabouts.”
“And? What else did she tell you?”
“All of them are working in the homes of people who are at least as rich as the Hyde-Smiths. I got their names and addresses for you.”
“Good work, Georgie-boy,” Robbie praised, flinging aside his cheroot. “What did you tell Hilda to get her to give up the names?”
“I told her someone who knew of her past had seen her entering the Hyde-Smith house and unless she gave up the names of anyone like her who was working fo
r the wealthy and who they worked for, that person would go to Lady Penelope and report her.”
He didn’t add that, using the same threat, Hilda Peters had quickly given him two pounds and promised to collect the same from the others on the list. It wasn’t much, but if Robbie thought George was going to stick his neck out for nothing, he was sadly mistaken. Two could play at this game. “There is one more thing, Robbie, and then we need to call it done.”
“Oh yeah?” Robbie took out another of his cheroots, lit it and dragged deeply on it. “Like what?”
“Every one of those criminals who were referred to their employers are from the same employment agency,” George said. “From the family you love to hate.”
Robbie choked. “Are you saying—”
“That’s right,” George said triumphantly. “They were placed by the Goforth Employment Agency.”
THE NEXT DAY. HANOVER Lane in Cheapside.
“You’ve invited Mr. Hollingsworth to your annual Christmas tea too?” Tabitha stared at Bartley Eustace in dismay.
“Me and the boys thought it only right,” the old soldier explained. “What with him
helping me and Bouncer out the way he did. You could have knocked me and my old mates over with a feather when that delivery boy showed up with a letter from him and a money order with instructions to use it to fix up the center here. Uncommon generous, of him, I say.”
Unease rippled over Tabitha’s skin. “Mr. Hollingsworth gave you money to improve the center?” Surely he didn’t think he could influence their votes by doing that, could he?
“Not him, exactly,” Mr. Eustace said. “His letter said the money was from people who read your story about the center and wanted to help us out. He was just the messenger. Lord help us, but it was a pile of money! The boys have been rushing ‘round like mad things to at least get the walls painted and the windows washed for the new curtains. They’re in there polishing the floors right now.”
Tabitha barely withheld her sigh of relief. The thought of Daniel Hollingsworth trying to curry favor with anyone had never entered her mind. She was glad it would not now.
“Mr. Eustace, why did you invite me here today?” She let her gaze flicker away from him to search the street. Late afternoon traffic crowded the street and a true pea-souper of a London fog threatened to blanket the street.
Mr. Eustace plucked at his high, starched collar and laughed. “’Cause if it weren’t for you asking him to take on the case, who knows where Hank and Bouncer would be now? Don’t even want to think about it. Of course we had to invite you. Don’t know how I’m ever gonna pay Mr. Hollingsworth back. Barristers don’t come cheap.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Tabitha assured. “Perhaps you should consider his help an early Christmas present for Bouncer.”
“Spoken like a true dog lover,” Mr. Eustace agreed. “Ah, there he is. I was almost afraid he might not come, him being so busy and all.”
A hansom slowed its approach and stopped at the curb. The door opened and the tall figure of Daniel Hollingsworth stepped down. After paying the driver, he started up the sidewalk at a brisk pace, but seeing Tabitha on the front porch, he stopped. Underneath her coat, her heart began to do a skipping dance and her breathing picked up a pace as his dark gaze fastened onto her face. Lord save us, but he was surely the finest looking man in London. Inside her coat pockets, her gloved hands slowly curled into fists.
After a moment, he began his approach again, his pace more measured. At the steps, he lifted his hat and said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Goforth. Our meetings are becoming more and more frequent, aren’t they?”
“Mr. Eustace and the other gentlemen invited me,” Tabitha said, trying not to sound defensive. “I didn’t realize you were included in the invitation as well.”
“I see.” Then, as if accepting the inevitable, he replaced his hat and smiled at his host. “Mr. Eustace, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Is Bouncer on the mend?”
“Yes sir, that he is,” Mr. Eustace declared. “We’re right grateful, Hank and me. Thank you for sending me to that vet. He refused to take any payment for the bills, so we was able to use the money you sent to start working on the center.”
“My late wife and I used Dr. Ackers for our Yorkies when she was alive,” Mr. Hollingsworth said. “He specializes in caring for the smaller breed of dogs.”
“Well, we certainly do thank you. We’d been needing to fix the place up, and now thanks to the money all those folks sent, we can,” Mr. Eustace said, a grin spreading over his face. He paused as if choosing his words carefully. “There’s probably gonna be quite a bit of money left over, Mr. Hollingsworth, sir. I mean, we’re trying to be good stewards of it but we’ve got some fellas here who are living in places that aren’t hardly fit for wild beasts. Do you think those folks would mind if we—”
“Used it to find them better housing? “ Mr. Hollingsworth asked. “By all means, Mr. Eustace, have your committee do to what they think best. I’ll let the donors, know of course, but I hardly think they’ll mind. A man needs a decent place to live.”
Mr. Eustace slapped his hands together. “I was sure you’d see it that way sir. I was
just telling Mrs. Goforth here, we’ve already made a good start. We’re still trying to decide on the furniture and stuff. Some of the wives are putting in their two cents worth, and Lord help us! You’d think they was gonna redecorate Buckingham Palace itself!”
Mr. Hollingsworth laughed softly. “Wives have a way of doing that.”
“I always said it was a good thing I stayed a bachelor,” Mr. Eustace said with a wink. “Wives is an awful lot of work, so I’m told.”
“They are indeed.” Mr. Hollingsworth inclined his head in agreement. “Might we go inside? It’s getting colder by the minute.”
“Right you are, sir!” Eustace said cheerfully, opening the front door and leading them inside. After shutting it, he said, “Me and the boys are right glad you took the time to join us for our annual Christmas tea. Inviting you is the least we could do to thank you for all you done. It ain’t much, but the wives have been baking like crazy and Bouncer’s inside waiting to meet you. Mrs. Goforth said your late wife, God rest her soul, judged Yorkies in them fancy dog shows. Have you got one now?”
A muscle jumped in Mr. Hollingsworth cheek. “No,” he said. “It didn’t seem quite the same having one with Letty not there.”
“Well sir, if I may make bold to say so, a friend with a little female and I arranged a bit of ‘get together’ for her and Bouncer earlier this year. It’s not his first time out, and Bouncer’s quite the stu—begging you pardon, Mrs. Goforth.” Mr. Eustace winked again and canted his head in Tabitha’s direction. “Bouncer does have a way with the lady dogs, if you know what I mean. Good thing that Tobias didn’t injure the important bits of old Bouncer, that’s for sure. But the pups is just weaned, and if you want one, sir, we’d be proud to give you one.”
Mr. Hollingsworth’s burst of laughter brought another smile to the soldier’s face and a shiver enveloped Tabitha as she watched a pure, unrestrained joy light up the barrister’s face. He must have laughed for a good, solid minute, with Mr. Eustace joining in with him.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Mr. Hollingsworth gasped as their laughter subsided. “Perhaps a puppy is just what I need.”
“You just let me know, sir,” Mr. Eustace said. “So if you’ll give me just another minute to tell the boys and their wives not to pester you too much with questions ’bout some of your cases, we’ll get started. And I want to be sure that old Alfred hasn’t used too heavy a hand with the spices on our own special brand of Smoking Bishop. It’s chilly today and it will warm us all up in a jiffy. I’ll be back in two ticks.”
Even on his crutches, the former soldier was able to move down the hall with an amazing speed. When he was out of earshot, Tabitha looked at her companion and asked, “You arranged for Bouncer to have free medical care?”
&nb
sp; “It seemed the least I could do,” he replied. “And after reading your story about the center here, it seemed appropriate to use all the donations to refurbish it.”
“And did you tell that to the people who sent the money?” Tabitha persisted. “How many letters did you actually receive?”
“Over three hundred at last count, Mrs. Goforth. And yes, of course I informed those people of my decision. I’m grateful for Mr. Edgeworth’s skills at using shorthand to take dictation from me this morning because after spending most of yesterday writing replies, I could barely hold a pencil or pen today. Now, there is something you can do for me, if you please.”
His eyes took on a steely gaze and Tabitha braced herself. “What is it?”
“I must ask you not to write about my coming here today. This is a private party and I’ll not have it suggested that I’m trying to deliberately court the vote before I start my campaign,” he reminded her. “And no more interviews until after the holidays. My son is coming home from India any day now after several years, so he has a claim on all my time.”
“I understand,” she said. “What a lovely bit of ‘Christmas cheer’ for you and your family as Mr. Eustace might say. And I owe you an apology.”
His eyes narrowed. “For what? Not always offering the kindest opinions for my past work in the House in The Clarion?”
“For kissing you the other day.” Heat flamed in Tabitha’s cheeks and she felt like a schoolgirl admitting her first crush. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Incredibly he laughed. But this time, it was a long, soft sound, almost like a caress spreading warmth over Tabitha’s skin. She hadn’t felt this flustered around a man in years. What in the world was the matter with her?
“But you are a woman who likes to have the element of surprise,” he reminded her. “Or so you said yesterday. I will have to be on my toes with you watching me next year.”
“Why did you come today, really?” Tabitha asked, surprising herself with the question.
Surprise lit up his face. “For several reasons, actually. One, because Mr. Eustace invited me. He was most insistent that I come. Nigel agreed that talking to soldiers is always a good idea.”
